


The Perils of a Complicated Relationship (In Space)

by monj



Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Sex Pollen, Space AUs make everything better, Space Pirates, Threesome - F/M/M, allergic reactions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-13 01:08:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monj/pseuds/monj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Space AU - Peter gets Neal paroled to his and El's ship because he couldn't bear the thought of Neal on a prison planet. El hijacks Neal into her event planning because she can't bear to see his talents being wasted while he and Peter pine over each other. But there's many perils in space (always with the space pirates), not the least of which is to convince her boys to stop being silly and listen to her!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perils of a Complicated Relationship (In Space)

The first time Peter caught Neal Caffrey was almost entirely due to luck. There was skill too, but usually Peter just analyzed the latest reports, made his best estimate, and sent his recommendations in without much hope that the field agents he passed them on to would ever catch up with Neal. He was glad, to be honest. Neal was _his_ case, and they’d played catch-me-if-you-can for almost two years before Peter had married El and gave up his field office to run her security and consult for the Bureau on white collar cases. And he was happy with the change; he liked keeping El safe and doing the interesting deducting work on cases without all the wrap-up paperwork. But if anyone got to grab hold of Neal Caffrey it should be him.

Still, when he entered the restaurant their resort recommended for a night out on the town and realized that Neal was seated at the next table over, he was surprised. Neal, when he caught sight of Peter, was equally taken aback, but by that time Peter’d had his badge and handcuffs out and there was nothing to do but play the scene out right in the middle of the politely staring diners and fancy wait staff.

“Peter, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Neal said over his shoulder as Peter locked the cuffs on him. “Good evening, El. You look lovely, as always.”

“Hello Neal. I can’t say we expected to see you either,” his wife said. She was sizing them both up with a look that Peter couldn’t decipher. He would have called it worry except that El knew as well as he did that Neal wasn’t dangerous. Not physically anyway.

Neal gave El his most charming grin, and Peter was a little disturbed by this byplay going on right in front of him. Mostly he was disturbed by how normal it seemed. “What a pleasant surprise for all of us,” he muttered, finishing with the cuffs and hustling them out of the restaurant and back to the ship. He told himself that the worry he felt was because he’d just told the Bureau that Neal was probably three systems away and now they were going to think he was a glory-grabbing liar, and not at all because Neal’s case files had always been the most interesting to cross his desk, especially once Neal had realized that Peter was behind all the good tips and started playing up to that. He was not thinking about the several downright nice deeds he’d caught Neal doing with some of his ill-gotten gains. Things Peter hadn’t ever reported, because he wasn’t going to be responsible for taking money away from an orphanage. Even if it was stolen money. He was thinking of the paperwork. Really.

Of course, it was a moot point because Peter had barely sat down at his desk to start aforementioned paperwork when Diane burst in to tell him Neal had escaped.

The second time Peter caught Neal Caffrey, it had nothing to do with luck and everything to do with how Peter had spent the last four years getting to know Neal better than Neal knew himself. It didn’t take him long to find the little flat that Neal had set up, and while there was a good chance that Neal was already gone – because Neal moved _fast_ when he wasn’t purposefully lingering to attract Peter’s attention – when they busted the lock in, Neal was sitting on the floor in the corner, knees drawn up to his chest. Peter didn’t like how empty his eyes were when he looked at them.

“Neal?” Peter approached as Diana cleared the rest of the apartment.

“She’s gone, Peter.” Peter doesn’t need to ask to know who he’s talking about. Kate. Girlfriend. Partner. Hopefully ex both of those things, since it looked like she’d cleaned out everything that might have been here before. “I told her to wait, that I would be here and we would go. But she’s gone. Took everything,” Neal said, confirming everything. Peter’s not surprised, really. Neal had _fun_ with his jobs, was in the work as much because he enjoyed it as he enjoyed the profits; Kate, from what Peter had been able to tell, was entirely mercenary.

Peter didn’t ask him if he wanted to give up any information on Kate. Instead, he just gave Neal the seconds he needed to pull himself together and off the floor before he put the cuffs on and read him his rights again. By the time they’d taken the shuttle back to the ship, Neal’s mask was more or less back in place, good enough that Peter didn’t think the cracks were visible to most, if the looks Diana and Clinton were giving Neal are any indication. They didn’t see that Neal was still reeling, not giving more than a fraction of his attention to them. Peter just watched, and when they got to the station he hustled Neal into his office instead of the brig. Neal was in no shape to escape again right now, but Peter didn’t want to take any chances.

“Sit,” he ordered Neal, before dismissing Diana and Jones. “As a confirmed flight risk, I am authorized to implant you with a Trace immediately since this ship does not have maximum security ratings at this time,” he told Neal formally has he got out the equipment. He’d been authorized to do this by the Bureau, but most of the time he hadn’t bothered: the few times he’d actually had someone under arrest they’d just dropped them off at the nearest field office without delay. He was just slightly worried that Neal would find a way to hijack a shuttle or something before they got that far though.

Besides, he wanted to do this before Neal started paying attention. Every time Neal escaped or tried something was a black mark on his record, which meant a longer sentence. Peter had experience with the type of scum that needed to stay behind bars, because there was no hope of them changing, just hope that with them out of the air, space would be a bit safer. Neal wasn’t like that. He was a criminal, sure, but spending half his life in prison would make him into one of those hardened criminals. And Peter would really hate to see that.

He put on the sterile gloves and had Neal lay his arm on the desk. “Hold still,” he said, and pulled the trigger on the insertion gun. It barely left a mark, which would fade soon. Neal didn’t react with more than a blank stare. The Trace was virtually undetectable to the naked eye and most scanners, but it could be programmed to track the exact movements of the target. As far as Peter knew, no one had discovered a way to disable it, short of seriously injuring the tagged area and hoping it was destroyed or using the highly classified government signal to make it self destruct, leaving a tiny black mark like an ink spot the size of a pin prick.

He awkwardly put away the equipment. Now he at least knew he could keep hold of Neal until he got them turned around toward the nearest Bureau office. “Come on, Neal,” he said, clearing his throat. “Let’s get you settled.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Peter blinked, thrown off balance by his wife’s casual statement. “What do you mean no?” he asked.

El remained sitting behind her desk – she hadn’t even stopped typing when Peter had explained the situation to her. “I mean no, you can’t temporarily take over the ship for Bureau functions at this time.”

“But—Neal—“ Peter stopped talking in order to not repeat himself. He was just thrown off, because this was _Neal_. She knew how important this was to him.

“Peter.” El finally stopped typing and looked up, spinning her chair so she was facing him. “Will Galactic security be compromised if you don’t take him in right away?”

“No.” Peter shifted his weight, realized it made him feel like an errant schoolboy, and immediately had to stop himself from shifting again.

“Do you fear for the physical safety of those on this ship if he remains on it?” El’s voice was calm.

“No, of course not.” Peter would never put El in danger knowingly. She knew this, knew also, that physical injury wasn’t anywhere in Neal’s MO. He tried to remember that, in this office, he was her official security officer and Bureau liaison, and that he had authority in those roles. “But—“

“And you can’t classify him as a flight risk—“ she interrupted him.

“It took him less than an hour to escape the brig!” he squawked. He cleared his throat, attempting to regather his dignity. “El, I know you don’t like rescheduling, but be reasonable.”

El quirked an eyebrow at him. “I know you put a trace in him, Peter, which means you can’t classify him as a maximum flight risk. Which means, per the agreement I signed, you cannot take over regularly scheduled operations of this vehicle unless I agree. Which I don’t.”

Peter scowled briefly. El used that agreement on him all the time, and mostly he was glad enough of a reason not to go get bogged down in Field Office protocol, but he’d thought she’d understand how important this was to him. Not the credit for the case, just…ending it. Now that he had Neal, Peter was a little unnerved by that fact, by how the slightly broken man in the brig wasn’t going to be able to pick himself up and find some new way to infuriate Peter again.

“Peter, I have three weddings and a diplomatic reception in the next two weeks, all of them in the opposite direction of the nearest agency field office. It would be unduly detrimental to my reputation if I had to cancel them for anything less than a true emergency.” She crossed her leg and beamed at him. “We’ll just have to get around to him later.”

Peter did not let his gaze linger on her legs and acknowledged to himself that he had clearly lost this argument. “Fine.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Neal was surprised when after breakfast the door to his room opened to reveal not Peter but Peter’s wife. “Mrs. Burke, what a pleasant surprise.” He didn’t get up from where he was sitting on the bed, but he did dredge up one of his old smiles. He wasn’t not sure why she was here, but throwing a little charm out never hurt.

She smiled back at him, a real smile, not an “I’m calling your bullshit” smile or a “I secretly hate you for taking so much of my husband’s attention for years” smile. “Call me El,” she said, and turned her attention to the rest of the room. It was bare, just a bed, a small table and chair, and a bathroom alcove. Other than the toiletries Peter had left him on the sink and the change of clothes folded on the chair there was just Neal. She frowned slightly. “Peter hasn’t been here yet?”

Confused, Neal shook his head. “No?” Now that he thought about it, he found that odd. Surely Peter had lots of questions for Neal. Not that either of them really expected Neal to give up much. Not without some kind of deal in place. Although, Neal didn’t know where Kate was at the moment, or in what condition most of his caches were in because of that. Or even where Mozzie was so he could start figuring that out. He didn’t have a whole lot to work with even if Peter did unexpectedly turn up with a deal this early in the game, because Neal didn’t give up his friends. Even Kate. Her abandonment hurt, but until he was one hundred percent sure she’d double crossed him, he couldn’t bring himself to betray her back. He shook himself out of his reverie and returned his focus to El.

Her frown had vanished. “Well, his loss then. Come with me.” She gestured towards the door and looked at him expectantly.

“Um.” Neal stayed where he was. “Peter explicitly told me not to leave this room.” Not that Neal was against breaking the rules, but he rather thought breaking the rules with Peter’s wife was entering dangerous territory.

“Neal, Peter may be in charge of your case right now, but I am the captain of this ship. So if I tell you to come, then you come.” 

Neal stared, not sure if he was imagining the subtext to that statement or not. El just smiled at him, waiting. He sighed and got up. “If Peter throws a fit because of this, I’m pointing him in your direction, just so you know.”

El’s smile turned a trifle sharklike. “Make sure you do that, sweetie. Now, come on, I have invitations waiting that won’t address themselves.” And she walked out the door.

Neal stared more as he followed her, not sure if he was more surprised that he was apparently getting drafted to help with invitations or what he had read in that smile.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

El gave Neal a template and a guest list and put Neal to work on the invitations to the upcoming Faranger wedding as a sort of test. First of all, the invitations were in Standard but were also excessively formal. Neal not only did every one perfectly, he put everyone’s titles in the correct order, and his handwriting was far fancier than hers. While he was doing this, she had a conversation where she learned that he knew every language that she did plus sign language, was well versed in the etiquette, customs, and rituals of nearly all of the planets where she did business, and was charming enough for any three people. She was delighted. She was also keeping him; Peter was never getting him back, because how was it that a ex-thief is about eight times more qualified than half of the assistants she had managed to hire in the past few years? Also, she remembered what he looked like when she’d first walked into his room, like he’d been floundering before there’d been a reason to snap the charm back on. She doesn’t want to think about what he’d be like if he spent more than one day just sitting there; for sure he wouldn’t be the Neal that had infuriated and interested Peter for so long.

She watched as he puts the finishing touches on the last invitation and says, “If you don’t want to spend the next few weeks staring at the walls of your room, I can certainly use your help again.” It’s phrased as an invitation, and not a command, as much as she wants to just commandeer him immediately.

“Mrs. Burke—“ he began.

“El,” she corrected him firmly.

“El,” he began again without a beat, “I don’t think that Peter would be very happy if I—“

“Again, I am the captain of this ship, not Peter.” She paused for a second as he tried to think around this and said, “You really would be helping. I’ve bet you’ve charmed your way into any number of these kinds of events.”

“That’s true,” he allowed.

“And I bet you analyzed every aspect of how they worked, so you didn’t slip up at all in whatever you were doing.”

“Well, yes,” he said. 

“Then you’re helping me.” She rescinded the invitation, made it a command.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

It didn’t take long for Peter to notice that El was giving Neal more than busy work to do. More accurately, he walked in on El fitting Neal for formal wear and came to the correct conclusion that El was going to use him for more than just his handwriting. She watched the way his face went from surprised to shocked to that mix of protective and suspicious that first attracted her attention when she met him. She also noted the way Neal went stone-still under her hands; she couldn’t even hear him breathing. She put down the handful of ties she had been comparing to the color of the suit and the wedding flowers and said, “Thank you Neal, I think I can coordinate from here.” It was a dismissal, but there wasn’t any guilt in her tone, she made sure of it.

And Neal bolted, still in the suit, taking care not to touch Peter as he passed, but before he did he met her eyes for a split second. She looked thoughtfully after him and then turned to Peter. “Don’t overreact.”

Peter took a deep breath. “El, I’m speaking as your Security Chief, not your husband here. I have major concerns about this.”

El started putting away the flower samples and putting the ties back on the hanger. “And as the Captain of the ship and the Diplomatic Events Planner, I’m telling you that we already discussed this and it will be fine.”

Peter sighed and stepped closer. “El, I admit, we both know he wouldn’t deliberately hurt someone, and he does have the trace in, but…you can’t tell me you’re making him up a suit and not planning on taking him off the ship. That is a whole different set of risks.” His voice was low and he was doing the concerned puppy eyes thing that said he was really being difficult for her own good.

Except. “Peter, are you going to give him anything to do on this ship?” she asked. Peter just blinked at her and she pressed her point. “Are you going to consult with him on the cases you still have open? Discuss tricks of the trade with him? Anything? Peter, he needs something to do or he’s going to go stark raving mad.” She smiled. “Besides, I need him. He’s proved exceptionally useful the past two days, and he can help make sure this wedding doesn’t derail itself with all the crazy they’re demanding put into it. He knows how to put together the details, he knows how to fit in with the people. He has an impeccable grasp of the language and customs and etiquette.”

“Exactly! He could be playing you so he can get out there, find some way to escape.”

El smiled and carefully smoothed the collar of his suit flat. “Then you’ll just have to catch him again if he does.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Neal didn’t realize until he was back in his room that he was still wearing the suit El was altering for him, and that his regular clothes were still back where he’d changed. He sighed and looked dolefully down at the suit. He hadn’t worn anything this well-cut in a while, the last few jobs having required a much more subtle look, and he rather thought he wouldn’t get a chance to again in the near future. Peter hadn’t insisted that he put on a jumpsuit, thankfully, but he hadn’t let Neal keep his own clothes either.

Slowly, he took the suit off and draped it over the chair, taking care that it wouldn’t wrinkle. He didn’t think Peter was going to let him continue to assist El, but there was no reason to put her out over it. He grimaced as he remembered Peter’s face as he stood in the doorway. Neal had figured that Peter wouldn’t be too happy with El utilizing Neal’s skills, but what a time for him to walk in on them and find out, with El standing almost on top of him as she figured out the best combination of tie, boutonniere, and pocket kerchief. Neal knew a lot about Peter, and that he was insanely in love with and protective of his wife was one of the first things he’d learned. He rather thought that, no matter what El might be saying right now, he was going to be the one getting in trouble for all of this work taking him out of secure quarters.

Pulling on the soft sleep pants Peter had given him, he stretched out on the bed and wondered if he should be expecting Peter to come storming through the door any second, or if he’d be left to stew until tomorrow.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Peter took a breath to steel himself before entering Neal’s room. He knew that he hadn’t exactly been acting rationally the past couple of days when it came to Neal, but, the truth was, he wasn’t sure how to act in a situation when he had all the power over Neal. He was so used to being able to pit himself against Neal fearlessly, knowing Neal would meet him challenge for challenge and find some way to change the rules to boot.

Neal was awake, which wasn’t a surprise, but he wasn’t wearing the suit, which was. Neal, in every picture or video Peter had ever seen, had always been impeccably dressed to the limits of whatever role he was playing. It wasn’t like him to relinquish the armor Peter knew it would have given him in this situation.

“Neal,” Peter said uncomfortably, when it became apparent that Neal was waiting for him to speak first. “I- uh- I brought you the clothes you…left.” He put the folded clothes on the end of the bed. Neal was just watching him silently, which was unlike Neal. He shifted his awkwardly. “I’m sorry—for making you uncomfortable. El told me that she asked you to help her, and that you’ve been working with her a lot the past couple of days.”

Neal, who had looked surprised when Peter had said the word ‘sorry’, visibly pulled himself together and said, “Well her assistant’s calligraphy was horrendous. Barely worth qualifying as calligraphy.” The easy smile flickered back on, although the confident body language didn’t.

“Well you would know, I suppose,” Peter said before he thought, and watched Neal’s face shut down again, this time into a carefully blank innocent mask.

“I have the suit, so you can take it back to El,” Neal said, before Peter could change the subject. He got off the bed and began to gather it carefully from the back of the chair across the room. “I guess she’ll be needing it.”

He tried to hand it back to Peter, who didn’t take it. “Actually,” he said, and hesitated. He sighed. “Actually she said for you to keep it, because she wants you offship with her at the wedding, to make sure things to smoothly.” 

Neal looked surprised. “She mentioned that, but I figured you’d get to make that decision.”

“She does rank me on that,” Peter admitted. “Unless I can officially declare you a security risk, she ranks me, and with the trace, I can’t declare that.” Not without lying and saying Neal was dangerous, which he wouldn’t put on Neal’s record. He let his face harden. “But don’t prove me wrong. I’ll have my eye on you. One inkling that you’re trying to sabotage El’s event or escape and I’ll have you restricted to this room until we dock at the nearest Bureau office.”

Neal nodded without speaking, and Peter took his leave. He didn’t expect his words to actually stop Neal from trying anything, but he had to give fair warning. He didn’t believe Neal would do anything to ruin El’s events, that wasn’t like him. But he absolutely believed that Neal had more tricks up his sleeve than just putting a tracker on him would solve.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

El looked around, pleased at how well the reception was going. The food was perfectly done and laid out in the correct ritual patterns. The flower arrangements were laid out in the most advantageous places. The band was in tune and had managed to hit all the appropriate traditional songs in amongst their repertoire of polite background music. And between her and Neal, they’d managed to keep both of the high-ranking families involved in the wedding from deciding that keeping up the old feud was more important than the trade and peace that it would bring – the reason that this event qualified for a diplomatic-event planner of El’s caliber.

“I don’t think having him all the way across the room counts as keeping an eye on him, El,” Peter said, coming up beside her. He wasn’t holding either a drink or any of the appetizers floating about the room on various trays.

El sighed and took a few small sandwich triangles off the tray floating nearest her and handed them to him on a small plate. “Eat it,” she said when he just gave them a suspicious look. “It’s not the fish eye paste Neal was telling you about.” While it had been amusing to watch Peter’s face as Neal had explained this planet’s delicacies, it had made it even harder than usual to get Peter to eat the local fare. “And I brought Neal so we could keep both sides from backing out of this in a very politically messy way. We can’t do that if he has to stay within five feet of me. He’s been extremely helpful and charming to all the right people this evening.”

“I’ll bet he has,” Peter muttered, and then flinched when El elbowed him in the side. “El, he’s planning something. Look who he’s talking to!”

El looked. “That little bald guy in the plaid suit? Yes, he’s an old professor of the bride’s. I talked to him earlier.”

Peter sighed. “That’s Mozzie. One of Neal’s friends. He’s worked with Neal several times, and I doubt he’s here by accident.”

El raised an eyebrow and looked towards Neal again. “They do look like they’re a bit more passionate than talking about the canapés would merit,” she observed. “But if you know he’s worked with Neal, why aren’t you over there arresting him now?” she asked, turning the eyebrow on Peter, who looked suddenly uncomfortable.

“Well, I don’t actually have anything…concrete on him,” he admitted. “He’s been seen with Neal before things have gone down, but I’ve never actually been able to place him at the scene of a crime. And I wasn’t working on any of the open cases that he was suspected of doing solo.” He frowned towards Neal and Mozzie and then hurriedly scanned the rest of the room as if worried he’d be caught at it. El waited. “And I don’t want to arrest any of Neal’s friends.”

“Well that’s an interesting development,” El said. Peter looked guilty, then resolved, then guilty again.

“I don’t want him to hate me any more than he already does,” he admitted.

“Oh honey, Neal doesn’t hate you,” El said, putting her hand on his arm. “He’s probably mad at himself for getting caught, but not at you for doing your job. He _knows_ you.” Peter still looked guilty, but less so, probably at admitting that he didn’t want to arrest more known criminals. “What else?”

Peter sighed, but he didn’t retreat from her touch, so she knew that this was something he would have told her eventually anyway. “You told me to find some way that I could live with this. And I think I did. But it’s up to Neal, so he can’t be mad at me for arresting his friends.” He stole another look at Neal and Mozzie. “Although maybe I should, so Neal doesn’t make a run for it before I can make my offer.”

El poked him in the side. “You leave them alone. They’re not going anywhere right now, not with us both watching. Besides, Neal looks awfully unhappy to have prospective escape plans in place.”

“True,” Peter said. They watched the smaller man walk away from Neal, and Neal lean against the wall.

El was just about to ask him about this offer that he was going to make Neal (she had a good idea of what it would entail, but wanted to hear Peter’s explanation of it), when there was shouting at the other end of the room. A lot of shouting. And screaming. Peter was already gone, running toward the commotion with his gun out and at the ready. She could see flashes of light where someone else had a ray gun out too and was shooting it – she could only hope the setting was low enough to stun and not kill.

El wasn’t supposed to carry a gun to diplomatic events, but she did for events just such as this. She ducked behind a pillar, hoped that no one was looking her way, and hiked her dress up far enough to grab the small charge gun from her thigh holster before heading cautiously to see what the situation was.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Neal had never been so happy to see someone wearing a plaid suit than he was when he escaped from the clutches of the bride’s mother in law to see Mozzie walking towards him. Not only was Mozzie wearing a plaid suit, he had a horrendous ginger goatee. It was a testament to how glad he was, and how badly the past couple of weeks had thrown him, that he almost forgot his character and smiled at his friend. He caught himself just in time, and waited for Mozzie to bump into him.

Neal let the faux casual banter flow easily as he drifted them to a spot where no one was likely to overhear them. He’d scoped it out earlier, an area near the wall and almost behind the buffet table, buffered on the other side by where children had congregated to escape the polite conversation of their parents and be near the dessert table. When they were clear, he allowed himself to whisper, “It’s so good to see you, Moz.”

“And you, Neal. Are we going to have to hide from the Suit?” Moz said, referring to Peter. Moz had never understood Neal’s fascination with the cat and mouse game between him and Peter.

“No, they know I’m here. I’m supposed to be talking to guests, making sure things go smoothly.”

Mozzie raised an eyebrow. “How did you manage that? I figured I was going to have to break you out of a lockdown.”

Neal shrugged. “It was El’s – Peter’s wife’s – idea actually. I think her staff is a bit shorthanded right now, and I got drafted. Plus, Peter put a trace in me.” He discreetly tapped his upper left arm where it was.

Mozzie’s eyes widened. “A trace? That’s going to take some work to get out of you.”

“Yeah,” Neal nodded. “But first I need you to check all of my caches and hidey holes that you know about. Carefully. Kate emptied the one at Orion Station, and I need to know what else is compromised.”

“Is that how you got nabbed? Kate ratted on you?” Mozzie scowled, as much as Mozzie ever scowled.

“No, the first time was just bad luck. But when I got out and headed to the safe house, it was empty, of everything. Kate was supposed to wait for me there, if anything happened. I was barely gone a few hours and she just…cleaned everything out,” Neal admitted. He didn’t like to think about it, Kate dumping him so quickly after everything they’d done.

“If you didn’t look so sad right now, it would be an ideal time to say ‘I told you so,’” Mozzie said.

“Moz, I really don’t want to talk about it.” Neal scowled at the floor.

“Don’t want to talk about how she took your heart and your secrets and then stomped on you like the cold hearted harpy I told you she was all along?” Mozzie asked.

“If you weren’t one of my best friends, now would be an ideal time to punch you in the face,” Neal snapped. “But yes. That.”

Mozzie sighed. “You can do so much better than her. I’ll check on your other stashes. What about the ones I don’t know about?”

“If you don’t know about them, then no one knows about them, including Kate.”

Mozzie nodded at that. “I’ll look for a way to take care of your movement problem too,” he said. “I should get going now, before the Suit gets too suspicious.”

Neal watched Mozzie wander away and leaned against the wall, needing a second to get his head back into the game before he started soothing the polite society in the room. Seeing Mozzie again brought back all the painful thoughts about Kate he’d been suppressing while helping El the past few days, and he didn’t think Mozzie was going to find much good news. He and Kate had had strict plans on what to do if Peter got too close, and if she had jumped ship enough to not only bail on him, but to also leave him without the immediate resources to bail himself, it meant that she hadn’t just gotten spooked. She’d been waiting for an opportune time to do it the whole time they’d been together.

He didn’t get a chance to even attempt to pull himself together before there were loud shouts coming from the opposite end of the room. Because he was slightly behind most of the guests, he could see the big double doors at that end, and how they were now filled with masked figures firing ray guns into the crowds. His first instinct was to put his getaway plan into action, except that he didn’t exactly have one at the moment. And he doubted space pirates would be much into him attempting to talk his way out of anything. 

He heard a small whimper behind him.

The kids had noticed the commotion moving their way and were milling around uncertainly. This was the end of the room – there was no way outside from here, and their parents were towards the pirates. The only place to go was the kitchens. Neal wasn’t sure if there was a way out from there, but at least it wasn’t full of pirates. Probably. He shoved open the door and motioned to the nearest child. “Hey, come on,” he hissed.

The girl turned her stare to him but didn’t move. “Come on,” Neal said again, “In here, you’ll be safe.” He left the door and started physically herding kids towards it. There weren’t many, maybe six or seven, and they were all old enough that they listened to him once he got them moving. He was about to follow them in when an energy burst hit the wall beside him, and he ducked and spun around in time to see Peter take down the pirate that had shot at Neal.

“Neal, get out of here!” Peter shouted at him. But the pirate he had shot had fallen just beyond the buffet table and Neal could see more pirates coming. And just because he preferred using words to get his way didn’t mean he hadn’t taken the precaution of learning how to defend himself. He darted around the table and snatched up the fallen pirate’s ray gun. He ducked back behind the table, using it for partial cover just as he saw a fresh wave of pirates come through the doors.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

It took precious minutes for the extra security to arrive and come in behind the pirates that were trying to subdue the party, but once they did arrive things were over fairly fast. The pirates’ guns had luckily been set to stun, although those hit would still feel terrible and those hit with actual physical violence weren’t helped at all by that, and Peter and his team had been able to keep them more or less contained until reinforcements arrived.

Peter left Diana in charge of restraining the pirates that had been stunned and sending those still conscious off with the planet security while he went to look for El and Neal. El he found almost immediately. She had organized the guests and was comforting those who were having hysterics while pointing the medics towards those actually injured. She waved at him and gave him the signal that she was fine, so he moved on.

He headed towards the door where he’d last seen Neal. He hoped Neal had stayed in the area once he’d gotten out, because Peter really didn’t feel like going back to the ship and getting out the Tracer device to find him. He didn’t hold out much hope for that though, because this would have been an almost perfect opportunity for Neal to try an escape, especially with Mozzie around to assist him.

To his surprise, Neal was in plain sight, sitting on the floor beside the door, sprawled and markedly disheveled. He was staring at the floor, and, alarmingly, clutching a ray gun. 

Peter stopped immediately. Neal had never been violent, but he didn’t like to take chances, and he didn’t like the expression on Neal’s face. “Neal,” he called out cautiously.

It took a long second for Neal to look up. “Peter,” he said. He didn’t blink, and he didn’t seem to be focusing. “Peter, there were…” He looked almost like he did when Peter had found him in the flat without Kate. Dangerously blank. Only this time he was holding a gun.

And then Peter realized there were several unconscious pirates in the vicinity. He sighed, swiftly re-evaluating the situation. “Neal, I need you to put down the gun.”

Neal stared without blinking for another long second, and then down at the hand that held the ray gun. “Gun, right.” It took another small eternity of him staring and Peter not moving for him to loosen his grip on it, but Peter was happy to wait him out. He’d seen shellshock before, even if he’d never expected to see it on Neal. As soon as Neal had dropped the gun he moved forward, picking it up and tucking it in the back of his belt.

“Why are you still in here?” he asked, trying to see if Neal had any injuries.

“They were going to follow us through the kitchen door,” Neal mumbled, making no move to get up. 

“Us?” Peter questioned. Had Mozzie and Neal been trying to slip away during the chaos? It would have been logical to assume that Peter would be too caught up dealing with the aftermath to go after Neal immediately, but that didn’t explain why Neal would stay behind. He got up and pushed the door open, not expecting to see anyone. 

There, behind one of the long tables crowded with food to be brought out later, was huddled a group of kids. He slowly looked down at Neal, who was now looking at the unconscious pirates with an expression that, had it been less shock-y, would be a scowl. “It’s alright, you’re safe,” he called to them. None of them moved.

“Jones!” he called, bringing one of his seconds over at a trot. Peter silently pushed the door open wider, allowing Jones to see through. Jones looked from the kids, to Neal, to the pirates, and then back to the kids again, his eyebrows getting higher and his expression more impressed every second. “I’m going to take care of them,” he said, jerking his head towards the kids. “You get Neal back to the ship. Have one of the medics check him out first; he’s going into shock.”

“I can take care of myself,” Neal mumbled, struggled to get his legs under him to stand up.

“No one’s doubting that after tonight,” Jones said, stepping to help him up with no hesitation. “But Peter’s right, you’re going into shock. Come on, I’ll bet El’s worried also.”

Silently thanking Jones for stepping up to the plate, Peter forced his attention away from Neal and towards the kids.

It was late before he finally got everything squared away and managed to round up El to go back to the ship. And once they were aboard and in their quarters, she was nearly beside herself with everything she had been keeping under a blanket of professionalism until then, pressing her face tightly against his chest as she shook.

“Hey hey, everything is going to be fine,” Peter soothed. El was great under pressure. She kept her head and reacted swiftly to everything you could throw at her, but after a crisis, she needed to let out the tension. So he knew to just hold her until she got herself all straightened out.

“Twenty people are at the medical center, not counting the pirates,” El said, muffled into his shirt.

“But no one died,” he told her. “No one got abducted for ransom. The hall didn’t burn down. In fact, remarkably few pirate-y actions were taken.”

“You and your people stopped them fast, but they shouldn’t have even gotten that far,” she said, looking up at him.

Now it was Peter’s turn to frown. “And believe me, I am going to be having a talk with the local security we had because of that. But—“ he forced his expression to clear. “But, that is not your fault.

“But if people think my events are unsafe—“ she said, trailing off.

“Everyone knows that pirates are a constant threat in the port cities of any of the outer planets. They’ll care more how quickly your crack security team jumped to stop them.”

El narrowed her eyes at him. “Stop fishing for compliments,” she ordered, except not in her real ordering voice. The corners of her mouth were twitching.

“It’s not fishing if it’s all true,” he informed her, giving her a last squeeze before he stepped away. “Now, I’m going to go check on Neal before sleeping.”

“Neal!” her hands fluttered a second. “Yes, go make sure he’s alright. He didn’t look very good when Jones was bringing him back here.”

“I don’t think, wherever he learned how to use a gun like that, that’s he’s been in too many real fights,” Peter said. He intended to talk to Neal about that tomorrow, because from what he’d seen, Neal didn’t just know how to handle a ray gun without shooting his own foot. That was real skill displayed; skill that Peter had no idea about. He shook his head. Wherever he’d learned, Neal had no history of violence that Peter knew about, and he’d just saved a room full of children at some risk to himself. He’d ask tomorrow and decide later if it was something he had to put in Neal’s official file.

Neal, when Peter finally got down to his room, was fast asleep under the influence, Peter was sure, of a mild sedative. Peter made sure not to wake him as he left.

It was late on the morning of the second day before they finally got free of the planet and on route to their next stop, a small moon mining outpost that required a diplomat’s handling before they would sign their next decade’s agreement to sell exclusively to the Federation and not the private sector. A small, elegant party that was drastically different from the wedding fiasco they’d just had. Peter waited until they were half a day out into space before rounding up El and Neal and sitting them all down in a small conference room.

“We’ve all got some things to talk about,” he said, keeping an eye on Neal. Neal had been apparently casual when he’d entered the room, but at Peter’s opening suspicion flittered across his face before it was replaced by an even more elaborately casual mask. El sat back and said nothing, although she was splitting her attention equally between them

“So you’ve found time to drop me off at the nearest Bureau office after all,” Neal said, dropping the words into the room before an awkward silence could develop.

“No,” Peter said, not surprised that Neal had taken the first control of the conversation. Neal’s eyes flickered, although his expression didn’t otherwise waver. Peter settled back in his chair, careful to make sure his body language was open. “I have something else for you. A proposal.”

Neal delicately raised a single eyebrow. “A proposal? Peter, don’t tell me you want to go dark side.” All that Peter could read in his voice was cool amusement. 

“Not that kind of proposal.” Peter met Neal’s cool with calm. “An option for you besides dropping you off at the nearest Bureau office. You could stay here, on the ship, on a work-release parole.” He saw Neal’s mask slip, really slip, for the first time since entering the room and pressed his point. “You’re helpful here. To El, and to me, on the consulting work the Bureau sends me.”

Neal didn’t speak until he got his mask back under control. “That’s an…interesting proposal,” he said carefully.

“Neal, we both know that, eventually, you would find a way to escape from prison,” Peter said.

“An interesting hypothesis,” Neal said. From his grin Peter knew he’d probably already been formulating plans.

“And I know,” Peter continued, “That you’re probably making plans to do the same from this ship. And don’t deny it, please, I saw Mozzie at the wedding.” He stared at Neal until Neal sighed.

“I told him that goatee wouldn’t fool anyone,” he said. “But Peter—“

“Don’t,” Peter said. “Let’s not pretend here. Given time, I’m sure that you can find a way around the trace to escape. We all know you’re smart enough and dedicated enough; that is not the point of this conversation.”

“And the point of this conversation is…?” Neal looked confused, which was an improvement on blank, and better than flat out rejection.

“The point is that I know you’d escape from prison, and that you could escape from the ship, but that this is a better option.” Peter leaned forward intently. “Neal, if you escape you’ll be a fugitive. And the Federation will never stop looking for you. Do you want to live your whole life looking over your shoulder? Avoiding fingerprint and retina scanners? Staying away from all previously known associates?”

“It took you four years to catch me the first time, and we both _also_ know that incident was just luck,” Neal said, deliberately leaning back.

“The rest of your life is a lot longer than four years,” Peter retorted.

Neal was silent for a minute; Peter let him mull it over. “How long would I have to stay on the ship?” Neal finally asked.

”I could get it reduced to four or five years, I believe,” Peter said.

“And then I’m free to go?” Neal’s face was blank again, although his tone was considering.

“Yes,” Peter reluctantly conceded. “But I’d think you’d have a different perspective on things by then.”

“And I’d just be helping you on consulting cases, and El on—“

“More than just writing invitations and grunt work,” El cut in smoothly, speaking for the first time. “My regular assistant is back, and I pay her for those kind of things, but you’d be a big help on the ground Neal. You have a lot of firsthand experience with the kind of clientele I regularly work with.” Both men swiveled to look at her and she beamed at them. “I think this is a wonderful idea. You’d be more than welcome.”

Peter mentally blessed his wife for striking just the right note of eagerness, signaling that this wasn’t any kind of pity deal. Actually, he was a just a bit worried by the eagerness he heard. He’d always kind of suspected that El could rule the galaxy, and with Neal’s wit and charm at her disposal she just might try. He jumped in again before Neal could take control of the conversation back. 

“Here,” he said, pushing a data stick across the table to Neal. “A cold case I’m looking on. Take a look at it tonight.” He waited for Neal to take the stick. “This is a chance to start over, Neal. You could do a lot of good here.”

Neal stared at the data stick for a minute. “I’ll think about it,” he said, more somber than usual. Suddenly, his grin turned back on. “You certainly make an intriguing proposal.” Which could mean he was truly considering it, or, more likely, he was considering how to turn it to his advantage. Peter just hoped he’d have enough time to change his mind, whichever way Neal picked.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

It surprised no one that Neal accepted Peter’s offer the next morning. Peter and Neal both had their faces carefully blank during the conversation. El knew that they were both thinking furiously, trying to analyze each other and predict future moves, and she also knew that they wouldn’t get anywhere if things went on that way. So she stole Neal. Just tucked her arm in his and pulled him away with a, “Well now that that’s solved, we have things we need to get done quickly.”

Neal let her pull him, didn’t even make her try for it. “Not that I object, but what do we have to do that’s so urgent?” he asked.

“Well, now that you’re going to be here for a while, we need to get you outfitted properly. That’s urgent because your last suit got ruined and we have that reception soon,” she told him. She smiled as she felt him perk up. “Plus we have to get you moved.”

“Moved?”

“If you’re going to be an actual part of the ship, you get an actual room,” she said. Neal didn’t say anything, but she could feel his surprise. El just kept walking.

It didn’t take long to get Neal’s few things packed up and moved down to an available room on the crew side of the ship. It wasn’t big, but the bathroom was a separate room and the door locked from the inside, and Neal seemed to appreciate it. El appropriated the monotone shapeless garments they’d given him when he’d been caught and brought in a pile of things she’d culled from Peter’s closet. Not nearly as stylish as Neal undoubtedly preferred, but better than the others and good enough to wear for casual on the ship until she could get him his own things.

Neal didn’t say much during the whole move, but El could see his eyes sharpening, calculating and questioning. She let him up to a point, and then distracted him with suit fittings. Since Neal was staying now, she had one of the under assistants start altering several, and soon Neal was too distracted dictating fabrics and cuts to keep up the calculating look. El loved when he lost that look and became natural. Of course, he nearly always had a mask on around Peter, and she really couldn’t blame him for that at this point, but several times she’d gotten him so engrossed in her projects that he’d lost it, or most of it.

When he was good and distracted she sidled over to her assistant. “Keep him here until I get back,” she ordered, and then left quickly to find Peter.

“Before you work yourself into a tizzy,” she said, walking into the conference room where they had left him, “we have some time before Neal bolts for the far quadrants of the galaxy, so relax.”

“He’s going to run,” Peter said, sounding somewhat despairing. “He’s going to run, and then I’m going to have to catch him again, and put him away for even longer. This was a terrible plan.”

“No, it was a good plan, because you wanted to actually help him,” she said quietly. Then she firmed up her tone again. Peter needed to move, not wallow, or he’d spook Neal and then things would take far longer to fix. “Go do your own work. I don’t want to see you hovering. You can have Neal back later this afternoon, when I expect you to have some actual cases for him to consult on, and that you work on those cases together until dinner. The same goes for tomorrow. We’re only a few days out from the reception, and I’ll need the rest of the time to bring Neal up to speed on all the details – it’s going to need a much more delicate touch than the wedding.”

Peter had straightened in his seat. “El—“ he began

“You need to give Neal time to settle in, see what he could be doing here with us,” El interrupted. “Right now you’re both jumpy because this is new, so don’t push him into making any hasty moves.”

She kissed Peter goodbye before he could say anything else and went back to Neal. He’d noticed her absence, but she ruthlessly kept him from asking questions by spreading all the files on key players at the upcoming reception out on the table and pinning up the half-completed chart showing how they all related to each other. By the time Peter showed up Neal had shattered all of El’s expectations on how helpful he was going to be at these events. He was picking up on the connections before she’d even told him about them. But, since Peter looked like he’d actually listened to her earlier, she let him whisk Neal away.

Neal and Peter both showed up to dinner looking closed off and wary, but she couldn’t see any anger and figured they were both playing nice, just unsure of the lines. It wasn’t too hard to get them talking about the case they were looking at, and with her as a buffer they were soon coming up with more leads to follow the next day. By the end of the meal they were bantering freely, and a couple of times one of them would pause, as if surprised by how much they were enjoyed being able to riff off of each other in person.

The second day went even better. Neal’s charming mask was firmly back in place, but he seemed to be genuinely interested in both Peter’s cases and showing off his eclectic etiquette knowledge to El. And it was better, in El’s opinion, than him walking around like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, like after Kate had vanished.

It was on the third day that it all went to hell, again. Although El was sincerely grateful that it wasn’t more space pirates. Instead, they were trying out different canapés for the reception. The station had bizarrely intricate culinary customs linking types of food to rank, and El was hoping to bypass it all by serving food from the far reaches of the galaxy.

“These are from Roisau,” she said, nudging a small plate of purplish-brown rolls towards Neal. “A popular delicacy there, but the government heavily limits the amount of exports on two of the main ingredients. I think they’ll be lovely with that wine from—Neal? Neal!”

Neal had dropped the roll he’d just bitten into and was choking and rapidly turning as purple as the rolls. He was wheezing, but that was getting more hoarse by the second. El stared a second and then dashed across the room for the first aid kit in the wall.

“Allergy pens!” she snapped, hitting the emergency call button. She almost fumbled the tube that dropped into the tray in her haste. Racing back to Neal, who was now alarmingly starting to swell, she jabbed it in his thigh and pushed the release for it to inject Neal.

It took long seconds to do anything, but by the time the medic got there Neal’s breathing had at least stopped getting worse. He was still wheezing and clutching the edge of the table, eyes squeezed shut, but he was breathing. El showed the medic the rolls, and then stepped back out of the way as he got Neal onto the floating gurney he’d brought, biting her lip anxiously.

Eventually, though, the medic got Neal’s breathing to ease more, and Neal’s face became less purple. He didn’t open his eyes, though, hands now clutching the side of the gurney. “He should be alright now,” the medic finally said, turning to El. “He’ll probably sleep the rest of the day; his body’s had a shock and needs to reset itself. But I’ll put him on something that will help his breathing and take care of the swelling. It’ll just take some time at this point.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” El promised. It was the least she could do after almost nearly killing him. Just then Peter burst through the door of the conference room, demanding to know what was going on. Neal’s eyes slitted open at the sound of Peter’s voice, and he tried feebly to sit up, but both El and the medic pushed him down again. “No honey, you stay laying down. You can’t breathe right yet,” she ordered him before directing her attention to Peter and explaining the situation.

Finally, she directed them to Neal’s new room, and while they went to get him situated, she disposed of the rest of the rolls. It didn’t matter how much of a status mark they’d be, they were off the menu now.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

It took a while between when Neal woke up and when he finally convinced himself to open his eyes. It seemed to take way more effort than it did most mornings; in fact, it was rather like fighting his way out of a bubble made of glue. It was easier to skip opening his eyes and go right to trying to move, but when he did the bubble popped, and he suddenly realized that his entire body felt like it had been replaced with sandpaper and he had a terrible headache.

He opened his eyes because he couldn’t remember any steps between his last memory – laughing about something with El – and feeling this terrible, and he had no idea where he was, and the disorientation and beginnings of panic gave him the energy open his eyes, even though it hurt.

He was in a room that he didn’t recognize at first, because it wasn’t the brig. With an effort, he remembered that he had moved rooms, that El had given him his own guest room. His eyes sank shut again, still unbearably heavy and painful from the light in the room. Neal fought to open them again and keep them that way.

“Neal?” He squinted toward the voice to see El sitting in a chair beside the bed. She was wearing the same blue dress he remembered from earlier, which was a relief. Whatever had happened, he hadn’t lost a lot of time. El leaned forward, and he realized her hand was resting on his arm. “How are you feeling?”

Any kind of clever reply was out of the question at the moment, so Neal settled for seeing if his voice worked. “Terrible,” he semi-croaked. “What happened?”

“Here.” She held a straw to his lips, and as he drank, explained. “You had a reaction to the Roisau rolls. You almost stopped breathing.”

“Oh,” he said faintly. That explained how terrible he felt, or why he didn’t remember getting into this bed in this room. “I’d always wanted to try those, but I never had gotten the opportunity.”

“Well don’t try anymore,” El said, setting the glass of water down on a table beside her. “And they’re definitely off the menu for the reception.”

The reception. Neal remembered now that they were supposed to look at table arrangements and music choices after finalizing the menu today. He gathered his energy and tried to sit up, only to have El put her hand on his shoulder and push him back down.

“Just stay in bed, Neal,” she said firmly.

But. “I’m supposed to help you.” He needed to get on El’s good side, because that would put him on Peter’s good side.

“When you haven’t just recovered from almost having your throat swell shut,” she said. “For now, go back to sleep.” When he thought about continuing to protest, she added, “If you rest now, you’ll certainly be a hundred percent for the actual reception, which would be the most help. Rest for now; I’ll bring dinner in later. Something easy on your stomach.” She leaned over and brushed a piece of his hair away from his eyes. “Sleep.”

Neal watched her go in stunned silence, although he wasn’t sure if he was more caught off guard by the almost caress or the idea that she was bringing him dinner to make him feel better.

Dinner, when it arrived, was actual, honest-to-goodness chicken noodle soup. Neal stared at the tray El had deposited on his lap – there was even a warm crusty roll beside the bowl of soup.

“I made it myself,” El said, sitting down at the table with a bowl of her own. “Peter’s mom’s recipe, although he could never get it right himself.”

“Oh…thanks,” Neal said uncertainly, picking up his spoon. He wasn’t used to feeling so off balance, but being knocked completely on his ass by an appetizer had unsettled him, and El’s blatant concern and care didn’t help that. The few other times he’d been sick, Kate had been solicitous, but she’d never made him soup in bed. He took a bite and felt his throat tighten again –not from an allergic reaction this time – and he wondered how long it had been since he’d had homemade soup. “It’s delicious,” he added.

“Thank you,” El said, eating some of her own soup. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he answered, mostly truthfully. He still ached and felt shaky, and his throat was raw. But he was capable of getting up and helping again. “I’ll be as good as new tomorrow.”

El looked at him for a long second before replying, “We’ll keep it simple, sweetie. No sense in pushing yourself – I’ve got it all covered.”

And she really meant it. Not that Neal was under the impression that he’d managed to make himself indispensable to her so quickly, but she wasn’t just concerned about the work, she was concerned about him, and he…hadn’t expected that.

Over the past few days, Neal had grown to respect El deeply. She definitely had a commanding presence, if of a quieter variety than Peter. She efficiently ran the ship, meticulously planned every aspect of her events, and still made time to make her criminal assistant homemade soup because she cared.

He tried to stay focused on his dinner as El turned the conversation off of the reception, but it was hard. Partly because he was still tired, even though he’d slept all day. But also because he was starting to see El as more than just a mark, one of the people he had to keep charmed so he could manipulate events to his benefit, more than just an important aspect of Peter, his main opponent. If she was bringing him homemade soup and _chatting_ , about non-work things, that was verging on friendship.

El paused in eating to pull her hair back into a ponytail, tilting her head back and shaking it to get her hair free of her collar. The long line of her throat was exposed, framed by the shiny darkness of her hair. Neal stared, then jerked his gaze back down to his soup. Feelings for El were dangerous enough, and he ruthlessly tamped down the surge of want he felt. Making any sort of moves on El would not only land him in jail, Peter would stick him in max security and throw away the paperwork.

He kept his attention focused tightly on his soup for the rest of the meal. Until he had himself back in control, he was going to have to focus more on Peter’s cold cases when El didn’t need him for the reception. Computer files were nice and remote.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Peter passed the conference room and then had to back up a few steps to look inside again. “Neal?” he asked. “What are you doing?”

Neal was standing by the big table, which was covered with picture hardcopies. He looked up at Peter’s voice, easy grin in place. “There’s something about these paintings,” he said. “I was looking at the Sanderson file and something kept bothering me about them, but I couldn’t figure out what. I was hoping that if I could see them all at once, pick them up and move them around, I could figure it out.”

Peter went over to look at the table; he didn’t exactly trust the easy grin, but he could spare some time for this if Neal was going to make a breakthrough. “Come up with anything yet?” he asked, peering at the pictures himself.

Neal shifted closer so he could point out the groupings to Peter. “Maybe, if you arrange them like this, you can see that—“ 

“There’s a progression, yes!” Peter said, seeing the pattern that Neal had caught first.

He and Neal had the details worked out over the next hour, and then Peter typed up the final report that night to send it out the Bureau with a sense of satisfaction. His output of solved cases and breakthrough advice had doubled since Neal had started looking through his list of cold cases. It had gotten even better the last couple of days; Peter had caught Neal pouring over files at all hours of the day, looking oddly intent and still for Neal.

Still, he was glad that Neal seemed to be taking a genuine interest in using his expertise to help Peter. He’d lectured Peter on various topics on the finer points of forgery over the last couple of days, so that Peter was learning too, and he’d gotten really caught up in the subject a time or two.

Peter was really glad that Neal was getting interested in the files. He didn’t delude himself that he could content Neal with cold cases for long, and that grin that he’d greeted Peter with a reminded Peter more of Neal hot in the middle of a con, but his excitement over picking up patterns or noticing microscopic flaws in forgeries was genuine. But between that and him getting to put all his social pizzazz to use helping El, maybe they’d just be able to keep him out of jail. 

He went into his room and was greeted by the sight of El in a short silken robe, the sort she used to cover even scantier silky garments. “Well this is unexpected,” he said, stopping short in surprise. Normally when they were only a few days out from an event, the more elaborate nights got put on hold because El was so focused on the job. But setting the mood with clothing meant she wanted a scene tonight.

“Neal’s been so dedicated the past couple of days that I was left the time to decide exactly what I wanted tonight,” she said. She leaned back against the edge of the desk and smiled as Peter’s eyes followed the silk sliding up her thighs.

“He has been unusually helpful,” Peter said vaguely. He stayed where he was though – El hadn’t indicated what she wanted him to do. 

“I actually wanted to talk to you about that,” El said. “Eyes up here, honey.” 

That was her serious but not sexy voice, so Peter reluctantly took his eyes from his wife’s fantastic legs to her amused but not yet in the mood face. “You want to talk about…Neal?” 

“Yes. Now I know you and Neal have your history of playing catch me,” she began.

“I told you, El, that—“ Peter protested, but El kept talking like he hadn’t interrupted her.

“But I think that, since he’s going to be on this ship for the foreseeable future, we should bring him into our relationship.”

“I would never—wait, what?” Peter tripped to halt as his brain caught up with his ears.

“You’ve been long-distance flirting for years,” El explained patiently. “Even when he was with Kate , you were always aware of each other. And judging from Neal’s recent interest in work over conversation, I think he’s noticed me as a person rather than your wife. So we should see…if he wants to join us. We make a good team.”

“I—He—“ Peter cleared his throat and tried again. “We can’t just make him have sex with us. I’m pretty sure that’s unethical by any standards. And we can’t just—you can’t just decide this!”

El nodded. “You’re right, I can’t, honey. But look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want to go to bed with Neal.”

Peter opened his mouth to say of course not, because he was married to El and Neal was a thief and probably not over Kate anyway, and—then he remembered the third cold case he’d worked on that he’d been sure was Neal’s work. Neal must have done his research and knew who had come so close to catching him the past two jobs. He’d checked into his hotel as Peter Burke, and he’d left a piece of paper in the room safe, a sketch of Peter. In the drawing, Peter was walking off of El’s ship, while it was possible to make out Neal’s face on one of the departing ships in the background. He’d signed the bottom “Better Luck Next Time.” Peter had kept it instead of entering it into evidence; he still had it, as a matter of fact. 

And he thought about Neal when he’d first come aboard, still in shock at Kate’s betrayal. He did like the Neal that argued with him, and left him cheeky notes, and messed with his computer settings, and he wanted to stop the broken Neal from coming back.

So while he meant to say of course not, what came out was a half-croaked, “…maybe?” He hadn’t allowed himself to think of any actual possibilities, hadn’t even known they were on the table.

El laughed. “That’s not a ‘no,’” she said. “What if I asked you if you wanted to have him under you while I told you exactly what to do to him? How fast to undress him. How and where to touch him.”

El’s voice got lower and huskier as she went on, and she slid off the desk and walked toward him. Peter swayed toward her with a garbled sound, his brain shorting out from the images parading through it. “He’ll never go for it,” he managed to say. “He’ll think it’s a con, and we can’t if he thinks he’s being pressured.”

“We’ll make sure that he knows it’s a real offer, and that he knows he can say no. We’re not going to jump him and tie him to a bed,” El soothed. “Trust me, once he gets over thinking you’re going to murder him for looking at me, he’ll be good for us, with us.”

“Murder him? But—“

“You do get a bit possessive sometimes, honey,” El said. She finally moved right in front of him, unfastening the sash to her robe. Holding it up to his eyes, she said, “Now, since we have all night…”

Peter’s last thought as he bent his head to let El tie on the blindfold was the realization that he didn’t feel possessive _because_ of Neal, he felt possessive _of_ Neal.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"They’re driving me crazy, Moz,” Neal said, making sure to keep his voice low. El was on the other side of the reception hall greeting latecomers with Peter by her side, but it didn’t hurt to be careful. Mozzie wasn’t exactly a master of disguise, although Neal thought the bowler hat was a nice touch.

“Torture?” Mozzie whispered. He looked oddly satisfied, and Neal frowned at him.

“Would I be wearing a hand-tailored suit if they were torturing me?” he hissed. “No, they’re just being too nice.”

Mozzie blinked at him. “You’re worried because the Suit is being _too nice_?”

“Not Peter, El,” Neal explained. “Although Peter has been acting strange too. But El’s been very…touchy-feely lately. Every since I had that reaction.”

Mozzie, because he was secretly a mother hen, jumped on that tidbit. “What reaction?”

“It was nothing, I’m fine. Just found out I’m allergic to Rosieau rolls,” Neal dismissed, trying to get the conversation back on track. “The point is, I would say that El is flirting with me, except that she’s so devoted to Peter.”

“What kind of reaction did you have?” Mozzie said, completely ignoring Neal’s more current problem. Neal held out with a glare until he gave up. “Fine, your health is obviously of no concern here at all. So…you’re worried that the Suit will see the Lady Suit acting like this and then start the torture,” Mozzie said.

“Yes, minus the torture. There is no torture, Mozzie,” Neal said patiently. “He might kill me though, if he thinks I’m messing with El.” Which he wasn’t, and wouldn’t. 

“There is an obvious solution to this,” Mozzie said. “I have found a solution to the Tracer. Lady Suit will not be able to assault your virtue if you are not here.”

Neal stared. “Mozzie…what?” The information hit him like a bullet. “You couldn’t have opened with that?”

“You seemed like you had emotional baggage to unload. It’s unhealthy to repress things,” Mozzie said. He sounded exasperated, like Neal was the one making this conversation odd.

“You really found a way to get it out?” He hadn’t thought Mozzie would be able to pull a fix this quickly, and it threw off all his tentative plans and ideas.

Mozzie shrugged. “I have a quick solution to get you off planet, and then a facility lined up to get it out permanently.”

Neal widened his eyes slightly. “Wow, Moz, that’s incredibly efficient.”

“I do what I can.” Mozzie paused for a second, and then, looking like he very much didn’t want to continue, said, “You might want to think up a long term plan first though. I did the…checking you asked me to do. They’re all gone, Neal.”

It took Neal a moment to realize what Mozzie was referring to, but then he felt himself pale. Kate. “All of them?”

Mozzie nodded, looking bleak.

Neal allowed himself to close his eyes for just a second. This was just confirmation of what he already knew – Kate hadn’t even tried to get in contact with him since he’d been taken – but it still hurt. If she’d taken everything it mean that she really hadn’t expected him to ever escape – unlikely – or she’d just cut and run.

“I’ve still got options,” he finally said. He still had a reserve. Not a lot, but enough to get him time to set himself up somewhere else. If that was still a good idea. There was no Kate out there. No loot. He couldn’t continue to be Neal Caffrey without the government catching up to him in fairly short order now. Was there anything really worth stealing if he couldn’t get recognition for it, or share it with Kate? “Although,” he said slowly, “I will get access to a lot of important people and events if I’m with Peter and El. Maybe it’d be best to stay here – for a while.”

“…you want to stay here?” Mozzie asked in disbelief. “With the Suit breathing down your neck every minute of every hour of every day?” 

“I’ll be a free man in a few years,” Neal said, trying for Peter’s positive tone. He didn’t think he made it by a long shot, but he couldn’t say he was enthused with the prospect of taking Mozzie’s plan either. Alone, with reminders of Kate everywhere. Or here, under surveillance and having El and Peter drive him crazy. “It’s not so bad. El throws a mean party.”

“…they’re brainwashing you, aren’t they?” Mozzie said.

“No! Mozzie, I just think staying is the better option at this point.”

“You’re crazy is what you are!” Mozzie said vehemently. He talked over Neal when Neal tried to protest. “Fine, I can’t make you go. But I’m going to stay close for when you come to your senses and realize that even though Kate is a backstabber gold digger, that staying with the Suit is not a better choice!”

“Neal, why don’t you introduce me to your friend?” Neal couldn’t help freezing when he heard Peter’s voice suddenly behind him, even though he knew it gave them away. Peter came up from the side, where neither of them had apparently been watching closely enough, and suddenly he was standing right there, leveling an unamused look at Mozzie, who was glaring right back.

Neal managed to dredge up a normal sounding voice. “Peter! I thought you were shamefully going to monopolize El’s side all night. This is Mr. Haversham.” His mind was racing, because Peter had done background checks on all of the guests, he’d know there wasn’t a Haversham on the list, and he was obviously suspicious of Mozzie anyway. 

“Haversham, hm?” Peter said, not taking his eyes off of Mozzie. “I don’t recall seeing your name on the guest list, Mr. Haversham.”

“He was put on last minute,” Neal put in smoothly. He was going to get caught on that later, unless he could alter the lists before Peter could look at them, but better that than Mozzie getting arrested now for saying something provocative to Peter’s face. 

“Good,” Peter said slowly, “Because I would hate to think he’d snuck in here and that there were matters going on that I would be forced to look into.” Mozzie was staring defiantly back at Peter, and Neal was pretty sure that not only did Peter know that there was a connection between him and Mozzie, but that Mozzie was about to say something that would end up with both of them locked up in the brig.

“Just a conversation, Peter.” Neal pasted on his most charming smile. “When would I have time to plot anything anyway? I’ve been helping out you and El full time, like I said I would.”

“Hmph, well it’s time to wrap the conversation up anyway. El wanted you to help get people moving in to dinner, Neal.” He didn’t look like he was willing to budge, so Neal was forced to bid Mozzie a polite goodbye and follow Peter over to El, who had things completely in hand by herself. Which meant Peter had come over solely because he was suspicious of Mozzie or knew who Mozzie was. Which was just great, but he supposed he should just be glad Peter hadn’t grabbed Mozzie right then just on suspicion. 

Between Mozzie’s tenacity, his promise to keep close in case Neal changed his mind, and Peter’s apparent suspicion, Neal foresaw the next few days being very interesting. He went to help El, thinking that maybe her pseudo flirting wasn’t as bad as he’d thought, and that it wasn’t her who was going to drive him crazy after all.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

It was late morning when Neal heard the chime on his door sound. He looked up frowning, as far as he knew he had the ship primarily to himself, barring a few staff. They’d stayed on the station an extra day because the chief of security there had asked for Peter’s help on a few open cases. El had left an hour earlier with one of the station managers to discuss the reception. Neal had been left alone, and for once he’d decided to give the cold case files a pass and read something for fun. It had been a while since he’d ttaken the time for that, and he was savoring the time to do so.

Rolling off the bed, he padded over to the door and keyed it open. “El?” he said, surprised. He’d fully expected not to see her until mid afternoon at the earliest.

“Neal,” El said. Her voice was off – breathy and a little fearful – and she was leaning against the doorframe.

Neal wanted to ask, “What’s wrong?” And “Where’s Peter?” but before he could she wobbled, and he put a hand out automatically to steady her. She gasped at the touch, meeting his eyes for the first time.

“Neal,” she breathed again. Her eyes were almost black with how dilated they were, and Neal knew what was wrong. Lustrum. Highly potent aphrodisiac, and highly illegal.

“El, where’d you get dosed?” he asked urgently. If whoever had done it was loose on the ship…

“The station manager. Kicked her and ran,” El said. Her voice was clear even if her sentences were disjointed, but she had her gaze locked on Neal’s hand, which was still on her arm. “Ship’s locked.”

He slowly removed his hand. “Let me call Peter…” Peter needed to be here, to deal with the station manager and to help El. She’d been needing skin on skin contact soon, and sex, obviously.

She shook her head. “I called. Out of reach. He won’t get here in time.” She took a step into his room. “Neal—“

His eyes flew wide open when he realized just what she wanted by turning up at his door. “Oh no, that is a bad idea.” Despite himself, he steadied her when she wavered a little. “We can take you to the infirmary, they can knock you out.”

“No, I don’t want that.” She was leaning into his hold on her arm, and he could feel the shakes starting to build up in her, but she looked up at him again and smiled. “I want you.”

“You can’t really want this – you’re happy with Peter.” He sounded desperate, panicked, even to his own ears, but he couldn’t help it. Peter would kill him. Neal might have spent a few nights thinking about this, or variations of this, but he didn’t want to be responsible for breaking them up. He locked his elbow, keeping her at arm’s length.

El kept her eyes on his. “I came here. Not the infirmary. Not the hospital. Knew what I was doing.” Neal didn’t move, and her gaze wavered and broke as he felt a strong tremor run though her. “Neal, _please_.”

And that was when Neal wavered and broke. Because El should never have to beg. Or be in pain. And unless Peter showed up in the next two minutes, it really was going to be too late to keep her from doing either. Neal closed his eyes and drew El in close, wrapping himself around her. “Okay, okay, I’ve got you.” Knowing that, even though she wanted this, it was the end of everything here.

El had her face buried in his chest and was running her hands up and down his sides feverishly, so Neal took charge of shuffling them towards bed. He disentangled her until he could get her to sit down on the edge, despite her grumbling. “Just, sit still a second,” he said, getting to work stripping his clothes off before the lack of contact to her got painful again.

“I could help,” she said, clutching the blankets in her hands as she watched him drag his shirt over his head.

“In a second,” he said, keeping her at bay as he toed out of his socks and shoved his pants off.

“You’re taking too long,” she complained, and then she lost her dress in one smooth movement. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath it. Neal’s jaw dropped and before he could recover himself to move she was right in front of him. “Better,” she said, pressing herself against him. She palmed him through his boxers, and he jumped. “Best.” She leaned up, still cupping him firmly. “I took off my underwear in the hovercar on the way here,” she said into his ear. “You’re behind.” Her hand left his dick and moved to shove his boxers down to join his pants. “Now on the bed,” she ordered. And shoved.

Neal had been prepared to let El lead this encounter, offering himself to whatever she needed, but he wasn’t prepared to have her follow him down and crowd him up the bed until he was laying full-length with her kneeling on top of him. “I want you to lick me,” she panted, rubbing herself against him. “And then I want to ride you.” She wasn’t shaking anymore, with all the skin contact, but she never stopped moving, and it was driving him crazy. 

Neal groaned, all of the blood in his body rushing down to his cock. “You can’t just say things like that,” he said, even as he was urging her up until she was above him and could brace herself on the wall. He hooked his arms around her legs and let her lower herself until he could reach. He let her set the pace, but brought all his experience into play, keeping his hands on her thighs to steady her as he worked her through the first wave of the drug.

El writhed on top of him, one hand creeping down to grip in his hair. She didn’t pull, but it was possessive, and Neal moaned around her as she clutched hard for a moment as she shuddered on top of him. He was breathing nearly as hard as her by the time she rolled off of him,, but she didn’t give him any time to regain his control, just stretched out full length on top of him. He made a garbled sound as his cock settled between her legs, but most of it was cut off when she surged up to kiss him.

“Feels so good,” she mumbled against his mouth, and Neal hummed his agreement. Her hands were relentless, but had lost the earlier frantic urgency. Instead they were firm, running over his skin until Neal felt like he’d been the one to be dosed. They stayed like that, kissing and rubbing, and Neal felt like he was about to go crazy with need every time she pressed herself against his cock, but he didn’t move things along until he felt the tension start to creep back, curling El’s fingers into his skin until he could feel the bruises forming along his shoulders. She broke the kiss before he could, pushing herself up and sinking down on his cock before he could do more than get a steadying hand on her hip. He gritted his teeth and tried not to thrust, to let her set the pace, but it felt like he’d been hard for hours with El panting and writhing all over him at this point, and he could feel himself start to unravel as she worked herself up and down, hands branding-hot on his chest.

El solved his dilemma by leaning down and planting her hands on the bed on either side of his head. “Move. Neal, move,” she ordered, rolling her hips down hard. Neal’s hips jumped up to meet her rhythm almost without his input. He clamped one hand on her hip in a futile attempt to give himself an anchor point, because El was indefatigable, setting a grueling pace that left his head spinning; the other he wormed between them, adding to the friction until she shuddered again, curling down into his chest from the force of it. Neal gritted his teeth some more and kept moving, because El never stopped moving either.

One of her hands crept back up to his hair, stroking a little before winding in and clutching. Neal shuddered against her hold and met her in an openmouthed kiss that left his hand convulsing on her hip. She pulled away, and he leaned after her, but she used the hand in his hair to tilt his head back into the pillow instead, ignoring his noise of complaint. “So…good,” she said, pressing her face into his neck. She had to be sensitive, but she was still grinding her hips down into his. “So good.” Her breath hitched again, and this time he could feel her teeth on his throat, worrying the skin as she clamped down around him. Neal cursed and thrust up, coming for what seemed an endless time with El’s teeth on his throat and her legs clutched tight to his hips.

By the time he came to his sense again she had pulled off and was sprawled half on top of him, grinding against his thigh. “Almost…there,” she panted, and he hauled her up so he could kiss her some more. But she batted his hands away when he reached down to help. It didn’t take her more than another minute to finish, this time collapsing limply against his side, breathing heavily. Neal watched her carefully, but most of the manic energy seemed to be gone. When her breathing started to slow Neal breathed a careful sigh of relief. Lustrum was a short term drug – all the effects should be done when El woke up.

Which meant that he needed to leave _now_ before Peter got back or she woke up. He carefully slid out from under El, grabbing a towel to hastily clean them both as best he could. He didn’t want to leave El with more reminders of this than necessary, and he tucked a blanket around her after so she wouldn’t miss his heat and wake up sooner. 

It didn’t take long for him to grab a few essentials, or to find El’s key to get off the ship. It took him longer to leave a note; he shouldn’t have left anything, but he couldn’t leave without one. In the end he scrawled one hasty line and left with one last look at El, who hadn’t moved except to curl her hand around the edge of the blanket. In short order he was halfway across the city and calling Mozzie on a random viewport. “Plans have changed,” he said to Mozzie’s surprised face when he picked up. “I need an out.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

El woke up without the feeling that she was going to come out of her skin, which was good. She also woke up alone, which was not.

“Neal?” she called, hoping he was just somewhere she couldn’t see without moving. Her voice was scratchy, nearly gone. There wasn’t an answer, and she pushed herself up, reveling in the soreness in her body. It was the delicious soreness that she usually loved, but she usually woke up with Peter to cuddle after. She looked at the clock and frowned – she hadn’t been asleep for long.

Her dress was lying neatly across the chair on the other side of the room. There was a note beside it on the table, and she felt the beginnings of panic. She remembered being in the hovercar, trying to call Peter and being told he was in the field. She’d decided then that explaining things to Neal was the only thing to do. It would be sudden, but she hadn’t had a choice, already beginning to be wracked by the drug. But she’d been confident that he’d wanted her, and that she could explain enough until Peter got there to explain the rest.

She remembered standing in front of him, his eyes so wide and blue, but she couldn’t remember what she’d said to him. Only that his hands were finally on her, a reprieve from the tension building inside of her. Surely she’d explained though? Told him that everything would be fine, that Peter would approve? She had the sinking feeling now that she hadn’t.

She pushed herself out of bed and over to the table. There was just one line on the note. _I’m so sorry._

El dropped into the chair, uncaring that she was sitting on her dress. Either she hadn’t explained anything or he hadn’t believed her. She stared at the note a few seconds before gathering herself and sitting bolt upright. They needed to find him before he did anything stupid, anything that would make them put him in prison. She needed—

“El!” On cue, Peter burst through the door; Jones, behind him, took one look and then ran into the door frame in his abrupt turnaround, and El realized that she was still naked. It didn’t matter, she let herself be swept up in Peter’s arms. He crushed her to his chest, and she could feel him bury his face in her hair. She held him just as tightly, glad he was there. 

“I’m fine,” she said, once he’d let her pull back enough to speak. “Neal got me through it.”

Peter looked grim, and scared, and angrier than she’d seen him in a while. “I can’t believe – the station manager. _Lustrum._ She’ll rot in prison for the rest of her—“

“We have something else to think of first,” El interrupted him. She had no doubt, had never had any doubt, that Peter would take care of who’d done this to her. That could wait - Neal could be getting ready to go off planet right then. “Neal left.” She leaned back in his hold and snagged the note off the table where she’d dropped it. “When I woke up he was gone. And I know it’s because he doesn’t—I couldn’t explain everything to him by the time I got here.”

Peter’s mouth tightened, probably at the mention of the state she’d been in when she’d gotten here, but then it lightened – just a little – with what she could tell was amusement. “You mean you jumped him without explaining that we’ve been trying to bring this up with him for days, and it looks like he leapt to the conclusion that he took advantage of you and that I would kill him when I found out?”

“Yes! And now he’s out there, probably with Mozzie, about to do something stupid unless we find him!” she said, glad she wasn’t going to have to calm him down enough to listen but wanting to make sure he took this seriously.

“I can find Mozzie,” Peter said, looking at the note again. “And convince him to tell me where to find Neal. “

“I’m coming with you.” El pulled out of Peter’s arms and looked around. She didn’t want to touch her dress again, so she grabbed one of Neal’s shirts out of the closet to put on to get back to their room.

“El, you were just dosed with an illegal drug. You need to get checked out, make sure there are no side effects,” Peter protested.

“The only side effect is that I just had a couple hours of amazing sex with the man I wanted to bring into my relationship with my husband and now he’s not here,” El said firmly. “I’m coming.”

Peter didn’t contradict her again; although he hovered anxiously all the way to their room. Once she started getting dressed he went back out into the corridor, and she could hear him issuing orders to Diana and Jones about the station manager. It didn’t take long to hastily clean herself and dress, putting Neal’s shirt back on over a pair of slacks. Before long they were back in a hovercar, Peter plugging in a set of coordinates while El tried not to fidget beside him.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Peter tried not to sigh with relief when Mozzie’s voice came through the intercom; El, jittering behind him, needed him to be right on this.

“Mozzie, I know it’s you. Let us in.” He took El’s hand from where she was digging her fingernails into his arm and threaded his fingers through hers, squeezing reassuringly.

“Nothing for you here, Suit.” Mozzie sounded hostile, which Peter had been expecting, but he also sounded surprised. 

“We’re not here to arrest Neal.” Peter wished he could use a federal override code without it drawing attention, rather than trying the impossible task of convincing Mozzie that giving up Neal was for the best. “We just want to—“

“We want to bring him home,” El interrupted. “He didn’t need to go. He…misunderstood the situation.”

“From what I heard, it wasn’t the sort of thing you want to wait around to take a chance on,” Mozzie said, still sounding mulish but much politer now that he was talking to El.

“It’s also not the sort of situation we want to discuss in a hallway,” Peter said. “Just…let us in. We’ll explain.”

He could hear Mozzie snort through the speaker. “As if, Suit.”

“I give you my word, I’m not here in any official capacity. Just as Neal’s friend.” He tried to put all his conviction into his words. 

There was a long pause, and then the door slid open on Mozzie muttering to himself. He scowled at them. “Come in if you must.”

Peter stopped just inside the door, but El stepped forward towards Mozzie. “Neal didn’t take advantage of me, no matter what he told you.”

Mozzie’s eyes flicked between her and Peter. “He didn’t say much. But I got the gist. Seems like he wasn’t only worried about your thoughts on the matter.”

“The bastard who dosed El is going down, but Neal—“ Peter tried to push down the anger he felt about anyone drugging or otherwise touching El without her permission. It wasn’t aimed at Neal – he knew that, but showing it wouldn’t convince Mozzie of that. “Neal was helping my wife when she needed it.”

Mozzie raised an eyebrow. “Pretty forgiving there, Suit. But no guarantee you won’t get jealous in the future.”

“We were trying to figure out how to invite Neal into our bed before this happened,” El blurted out. There was a moment of silence as Mozzie turned his raised eyebrow on her. “We just didn’t know how to bring it up,” El continued.

“We were,” Peter confirmed. He drew El back until he could put his arms around her. “We don’t want to get him in any more trouble with the law. We just want to talk to him.”

“And if he doesn’t want to take you up on this?” Mozzie demanded. “What then, are you just going to arrest him?”

Peter took a deep breath. “Then I’ll give him as much of a head start as I can before I have to start taking official notice of things.”

Mozzie studied them carefully, and Peter could feel El holding her breath. Finally he nodded and gave an address. It wasn’t too far away, but it was in one of the rougher areas of the station. 

“El, you stay here. I’ll go and get Neal,” he said. El had been exposed to enough for one day, and he trusted Mozzie to at least be off of everyone’s radar in the area. He cut her off before she could protest. “Please. I don’t want to worry about you while I’m worrying about Neal.” He was relieved when she nodded reluctantly.

“Don’t think I won’t use Mrs. Suit as a hostage if I get even a whiff of government involvement!” Mozzie yelled out the door after him.

Peter would have been more worried if El wasn’t already eyeing Mozzie like he was her new favorite amusing person. Which meant he probably was. Which meant that El would probably figure out some way to bring Mozzie onto the ship with them. 

If Peter came out of this having lost Neal only to gain Mozzie, he was going to be pissed.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“You’re early, Mozzie,” Neal said without turning around when he heard the door slide open. He didn’t take his eyes off of the sketch he was working on.

“I don’t think I was early enough, Neal.” The voice wasn’t Mozzie’s, and Neal’s breath lodged in his throat. 

“Peter.” He swung around to stare at Peter, standing in the door at what Mozzie had swore was an untraceable hideaway. He didn’t _look_ angry, but Neal wasn’t prepared to trust in appearances right now. “I can explain.”

“You don’t need to explain anything, Neal.” Peter still sounded calm. Way too calm for someone looking at the man who’d had sex with his wife.

“I would never have touched Elizabeth, except she was in pain and she asked – and I still shouldn’t have. I should have found a way to find you. I’m sorry; I won’t come near either of you again—“ He shut up, aware he was verging on babbling but needing to give Peter some explanation. He was a thief, a conman, but he didn’t set out to hurt people.

“I think,” Peter said into Neal’s strained silence. “That El would be very upset if you didn’t come near her again.”

Neal blinked at him. “What?” he finally said. He felt his shoulders tighten defensively when Peter moved further into the room. Peter saw it too, and stopped.

“I’m not here to beat you, or arrest you, or whatever else you were imagining in that dramatic brain of yours, Caffrey. I’m here to bring you back. Because El is very upset that you left.” He paused, shifting his weight. “I’m upset too. That you left, I mean.”

Neal, for once, had nothing to say.

“Come back with me, Neal,” Peter said. “El can explain things better. This isn’t a trick, I promise.”

That persuaded Neal. Peter didn’t lie. “El’s alright?” he asked, allowing his shoulders to loosen. Allowing himself to hope that everything wasn’t crashing down around him again after all.

Peter nodded. “She’s fine. She’s with Mozzie now.”

Neal got up from where he’d been sitting. “And she really wants to see me?” At Peter’s nod he allowed himself to be guided out of the room.

“However you’re blocking the tracker, keep it up until we get back to the ship,” Peter said. “We can explain everything else as a system glitch.

Neal tugged the jacket he was wearing back enough for Peter to see the black armband covering him from shoulder to elbow. “I was going to have it out tonight,” he admitted quietly.

“I don’t want to know,” Peter said. “And Mozzie should forget he knows, if he knows what’s good for him.”

“Mozzie always knows what’s good for him,” Neal said. He followed Peter down the hall towards the nearest hovercar area. “Did you really leave El with Mozzie?”

Ahead of him Peter sighed. “Believe me, you get to deal with whatever fun things come out of that meeting,” he said. “I’m blaming it all on you.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Oh _Neal_.” El hurtled at him the moment he came through Mozzie’s front door. Reflexively, he put his arms around her although the rest of him froze in shock as she dragged his head down to kiss him. Shock and more than a little panic because he could feel Peter behind him, just coming through the door. “You didn’t have to leave,” she said when she let him lean back.

“I—“ he began, trying in vain to gather his mind. He also tried to move El further from him, but she had her arms wrapped around him now and wouldn’t budge. There was a long way between Peter being alright with what Neal had done and letting El kiss Neal right in front of him. “But—“

“El, this would be where you need to explain things better than I did,” Peter said, and now he was right behind Neal, close enough that Neal could feel the heat of him. He jumped when he felt Peter’s hands at his back, but they just unwound El’s arms from around him and left, giving Neal room to step back, turning so he had an eye on both Peter and El. Peter sounded sheepish, which meant this was more complicated than Peter had presented it as being.

El raised one delicate eyebrow at Peter. “What did you say, precisely?”

Peter definitely looked sheepish, and Neal’s sense of foreboding increased. “That…we would both be upset if he didn’t come back, because we weren’t angry at him.”

El crossed her arms, which just made Neal realize that she was wearing his shirt, which didn’t really make sense at all until she said, “So you didn’t explain anything about how we wanted him to come back so we both are halfway in love with him and want to have sex with him when there’s no illegal drugs involved?”

Neal choked on air. Peter turned bright red and mumbled an agreement that, yes, he’d left that part out. Across the room, Neal could see Mozzie open a bottle of wine.

“I didn’t know Suits could be embarrassed,” he said. “And this is way more emotional drama than you assured me there’d be in my apartment, Mrs. Suit. It’s messing up my feng shui.”

“Sorry Mozzie,” El said before Neal could tell Mozzie that _now was not the time_. “I figured my husband would actually explain things to Neal before they got back here.” She turned to Neal and her eyes softened. “I mean it, we were thinking of a way to talk to you before the drug. I think it’d be good for all of us.”

Neal though about the way she’d said _halfway in love_ and _all of us_. He thought of the thousands of ways Peter showed every day he loved his wife, and the quiet, awkward way he’d asked Neal to return with him. He thought about the way he’d told Mozzie that if he didn’t know better he’d think El was flirting with him, and he had to smother a half-hysterical laugh.

“You don’t have to,” Peter said quietly. “We could go back to the way things were, or I could pretend I had no idea you were here. We’re not threatening you to do this. But we’d – I’d really like it if you at least gave it a shot.”

Neal got control of himself. “Okay.”

Peter blinked. “Okay?”

Neal felt a grin grow on his face. “Let’s give this a shot.” He turned the smile full force on El, and she jumped at him again. This time he kissed her back, and when Peter put a hand on his back, he turned the kiss on him. It was odd, kissing Peter when he’d spent so long not imagining it because it would never happen, but it was good too.

And then Mozzie kicked them out of the apartment because “the sounds of rampant love making would shatter his guise as the quiet enthusiast of ancient forms of wearable art.”

Neal refrained from teasing Mozzie about knitting because El had grabbed his hand as she’d towed him from the apartment, and Peter had one hand on his shoulder, and between the two of them he wasn’t sure exactly how they got back to the ship but suddenly they were in Peter and El’s quarters.

He lost all coordination when El started directing Peter in taking off Neal’s clothes. He lost most of his brain function when Peter pulled him close, his hands big and different but no less clever than El’s as they moved up and down Neal’s body. He lost the rest when El pressed up behind him, kissing Peter over his shoulder as her hands did an enticing dance between them. And he lost even the hint of coherent speech when they finally released him, only for El to flop down on the bed and hook her legs around him to pull him on top of her.

He obeyed her urging, hissing as he buried himself within her. Her fingers stroked soothingly up and down his arms, and he pressed his face into the crook of her neck as he felt Peter’s hands on him, opening him up. And then Peter was inside of him in a slow stroke that pushed Neal further into El, had him moaning into El’s skin as her fingers scrabbled at his back and Peter’s fingers spasmed on his hips.

Neal couldn’t move, because he was _between_ them, they were letting him be here, taking him up the edge of too much and not enough. Under the urgings of El for _faster_ and the possessive hand Peter moved up to Neal’s neck, he let his last remaining doubts flicker away.

And then El came around him, and it set him off, which made Peter stiffen and come against him also, and Neal rode the pulsing waves surrounding him until he was barely conscious, content to let Peter maneuver them all into a warm sticky heap that at least wasn’t crushing anyone.

And then, between them, he fell asleep.


End file.
